


You Are One Person

by mythicalbeans



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: 200+ Horror Movies, Alternate Universe - Slight Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Don't You Want Me - The Human League, Dr. Seuss references, F/M, Fluff, Gabraham Lincoln, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Mutual Pining, Occasional Karaoke, Other, Reader-Insert, Shitty jokes, Shut up about the sun, Slow Burn, Walk away bitch, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalbeans/pseuds/mythicalbeans
Summary: Heart-broken from a recent and, dare I say, traumatic, break-up, the reader, 2nd-in-command Customer Service Representative at the recently joined Dunder-Mifflin/Sabre Scranton, wants nothing to do with romance, relationships, Resident Evil—or that is until a skeleton of a man with toothpicks for limbs and an unnatural affinity for horror movies walks, rather awkwardly, right into their life.——“I—I’m actually not that great, you know? I have no idea what you see in me. Like, I’m… I’m just one, very ordinary, person, Gabe.”“You are just one person, yes, but to me, you're my entire world—maybe even my entire galaxy, who knows?—and I—I don’t know what I would do if you ever left me again.”
Relationships: Andy Bernard/Erin Hannon, Erin Hannon/Gabe Lewis, Gabe Lewis/Reader, Pam Beesly/Jim Halpert, Ryan Howard/Kelly Kapoor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 63





	1. Sabre and the Skeleton

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all the Gabe Lewis fans out there](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=all+the+Gabe+Lewis+fans+out+there).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during the episode "Sabre" from Season 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is very much my baby and kind of self-indulgent, but I wanted to share it with y'all due to the very unfortunate lack of Gabe Lewis fanfiction that exists on the Internet. It's going to be slow-burnish with a lot of angst and fluff to go around, and I'm also going to keep the reader's character as gender-neutral as I possibly can, so there's that. I'm also open for one or two beta readers if anyone is interested.  
>   
>  **Side note:** this chapter was written at 2 AM in a Shakespearean rage but I think it still turned out alright.  
> 

“We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love.”

— Robert Fulghum, _True Love: Stories Told To and By Robert Fulghum_

_(Improperly credited to Theodor Geisel a.k.a. Dr. Seuss)_

_——_

**VACATIONS**. Beaches. Disney World. 

Florida.

If you had been asked your opinion on these things a week ago, your thoughts would have been an even consensus across the board, “Good,” or “Fine,” or “Nice,” or even “Cool.” But it wasn’t a week ago—it was this week, the week your feelings, your anger, your crying, everything, were supposed to have blown over. 

That’s what Kelly said. And you’d trusted her—she’d had more break-ups in two weeks than the total number of relationships you've had in your entire life. Though in retrospect, it was with the same person each time, but, at least, she seemed to know what she was talking about.

So, why, then, were you crying your eyes out in your used 2001 Volkswagen Passat at seven in the morning in the same parking lot where you vomited your guts out during the suppos-ed fire caused by a burnt toaster waffle a couple of years back? And especially over someone who had the gall to have sex with some stranger in your hotel room in Orlando during your two-year anniversary vacation which you happened to pay for the majority of?

Well, there were a lot of reasons. Go ahead, take your pick—the cheating, the nonrefundable deposits, the trauma, being an overall pathetic person? Okay, maybe the last one was taking it too far, but you did feel pathetic, miserable, horrible, and a whole bunch of other terrible things. 

Though no matter how awful you felt, you knew you couldn’t sit in your car for the rest of eternity, and you didn’t particularly want to either—it still smelled of the old goat cheese that Dwight gave you as a belated twenty-sixth birthday present and which you also happened to forget to take out of the backseat of your car for two days. The godawful smell, if you were honest, was driving you nearly insane to the point that you wanted to get out of the car—no, correction, you desperately needed to get out of the car to escape the acrid clutches of the goat cheese ghost.

Wiping your eyes with a tissue from those ten-pack tissue packets that you got from a gift bag at your cousin’s baby shower seven months ago, you smoothed out your dress shirt and got out of the car, grabbing your bag full of client support documents and whatever other junk you had in it along the way. Now that you were out of your car and smelling the fresh, cool air of late January, things seemed incrementally less bad, but still definitely very much bad, and, sure, you were still sniffling and your eyes were red and puffy, but a big, fake grin always did the trick to make everyone else think that you were “A-OK.” You just needed a solitary elevator ride to collect yourself.

Except you couldn’t even have that.

“Ummm, uhhh…” A tall man—a freakishly tall man who looked like what you imagined what one of the skeletons in Creed’s closet would look like if it donned a suit of skin and strolled around town pretending to be a person and not a, you know, pile of bones—struggled to open the door to the building as his bags—that dwarfed him in comparison—kept slipping off his shoulders. 

“Hello?” He craned his neck to look at Hank who merely gave him a brief side-glance. “Would you, uh, would you mind helping me? Sir?” He tried the best he could to gesture toward the door that stood between him and entering the building. “Sir?”

You would have almost felt sorry for him if it wasn’t for the fact that you were already wallowing in your own self-pity, critically depleting your “pity meter” for the day or possibly ever. Despite that, you knew from the moment you stepped ten feet away from your parking spot that you were going to be the one to open that door for him because you knew that Hank definitely wasn’t. 

Putting on the best smile you could manage under the circumstances, you approached him, clutching your bag close to your body as a last defense. “Umm, you wouldn’t happen to need some help would you?” Thankfully, your voice didn’t crack mid-sentence, so far so good. 

That was until you caught one glance of his face as he turned to face you. His blue eyes bulged out of their sockets at the sight of you as he stepped back in surprise, nearly toppling over from the weight of his bags. You definitely weren’t known for sneaking up on people; you didn’t even think you were walking that quietly, with you sniffling and all, but you still spooked him like a giant giraffe being spooked by a lion cub’s roar.

He swiftly regained his composure, but by then you had already opened the door. “Uh, yes, actually, thank you.” He managed, barely, to fit through the door unscathed despite his hefty luggage situation. 

“No problem,” you mumbled, entering behind him. 

Hank offered you a gruff “hello,” which the skeleton stranger must have thought was for him as he returned the “hello” with a curt wave. You gave Hank one of your “winner” fake smiles in return before following after your skeleton stranger. Somehow, he managed to press the button without toppling over with God-knows-how-many pounds weighing on his shoulders that looked like they could barely support a thumbtack. 

“Which floor, my dear?” he asked after you got on, chuckling awkwardly as if he told a dirty joke no one understood but him.

“Huh?” You took a minute to process his question as the other half of your mind was still trying to process the events of last week and this morning all at once. “Oh, uh, second—the second floor.” The button was already pressed. 

The closing of the elevator doors sealed your fate, preventing you from ever getting that solitary elevator ride of composure you so desired this morning, and even the stairs, which you used only once in a blue-moon, were out of the question now. At least, there was some sort of relief, if you could even call it that. It turned out that the skeleton stranger wasn’t that big of a talker. He was quiet, very quiet, almost too quiet—which turned the normally quiet elevator ride into an awkward elevator ride with tension you could cut like luke-warm butter. Nonetheless, you weren’t about to break the silence you had so desired minutes prior, even if it killed you, you wouldn’t, no sirree. 

He did, though. Of course, he did. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be heading to Dunder-Mifflin, would you?”

“Yes, actually,” you replied. “I work in customer service.” 

“Oh, excellent,” he said, feebly clapping his hands together. “I’m Gabe Lewis, by the way.” He offered you his hand which you reluctantly shook, disgusted to feel how clammy his hands were. You put another six inches between you and this Gabe fellow after that just to make sure he couldn’t reach out and touch you with his gross, slender hands. 

“And I’m (Y/N) (L/N), by the way.” You smiled weakly, wiping your hands on your pants. “Um, and are you interviewing for a job or something?” 

He burst out laughing, and you couldn’t tell if you had somehow told the world’s funniest joke or if he was laughing at your utter “stupidity,” or even if he was having chest spasms. Either way, you found his laugh rather unsettlingly. To alleviate the sudden feeling of dread that just entered your system, you laughed along, although quite awkwardly.

Finally, he seemed to calm down. “No, no, no, I’m the Coordinating Director for Merging Regions.” A look of pride crossed his face like he was telling you he was the King of England and not some middleman sent down from corporate. “I’m from Sabre.”

The name struck a few bells at the back of your mind. You remembered hearing Michael gush from the table in the kitchen the day before you left for Florida about how Sabre, or as he pronounced “Sob-ray,” saved the company, and therefore your job, at the last minute and may have been the only reason you were even listening. However, before this very moment in time, you weren’t one-hundred percent sure they were a real company. 

The elevator doors opened before you could respond with a casual “cool” or something similar, but maybe that was a good thing in the long run. The quicker you could get to the Annex and away from him, the better.

“After you, (Y/N).” Gabe extended his arm and smiled, and, God, was that smile goofier and ten times more awkward than the actual Goofy’s smile. “See, I remembered your name. We’re already off on a good foot.”

You would hardly call that a “good foot,” but you weren’t up to arguing right now. “Mmm, yep,” you said, stepping out of the elevator. 

Somehow, you found yourself leading the way to the office with Gabe trailing you like a puppy the twenty-something feet you had to walk from the elevator to the office. You prepared yourself to have to open another door for him, but when you arrived, he seemed to have no trouble at all opening the door and gesturing for you to go first. 

When did this skeleton of a man grow two ounces of muscle?

Walking into the office, a round of applause erupted, which you knew definitely wasn’t for you and coincidentally left you with one other option: it was for Gabe Lewis. A thought crossed your mind as he entered behind you—how important was this guy really?

——

“I can’t believe you’ve already sucked up to the new boss-guy,” Kelly said, sitting on the edge of your desk and twirling her hair. “Like, I wouldn’t even do that, you know? I have Ryan and everything, but especially since he isn’t even that cute. Like he’s tall, I get _that_ , but he could stand to work out a little more and…” At this point, you knew to drown her out. “...so, are you sucking up to him because he’s the new boss-guy and probably has more power than Michael or is Ricky boring you again with his—what?—rock collection? I mean, he’s kinda a step-down appearance-wise but…” If you didn’t interrupt her, she’d probably keep yammering for another thirty minutes until her throat started hurting or her words fizzled out. 

“Erin!” But sometimes you didn’t have to interrupt because she’d just interrupt herself. “Erin! Come here!” Kelly waved wildly for Erin as if she were sixty feet away instead of seven. “Have you heard that (Y/N) is sucking up to the new boss-guy?”

“Gabe?” Erin sat down on the other side of your desk, which you narrowly cleared seconds before she could sit square on your Cat in the Hat bobblehead. “No, wait, is this true?” She looked expectedly between you and Kelly. 

You sighed. “I’m not sucking up to him. I just opened one door for him, that’s it.” From the moment you opened your mouth, you knew it was a lost cause.

“Mmmm, I don’t know.” Kelly crossed her arms. “Sounds a little bit like sucking up to the new boss-guy to me.” 

“Yeah,” Erin agreed, nodding, “I think.”

“You’ve never opened the door for me. Or Ryan. Or Jim. Or Erin. Or… or...” She trailed off. “Why do you open the door for Angela but not for me?”

The phone on your desk rang, but you ignored it. “Look, even if I _was_ sucking up to him, which I’m not, he’s no ‘new boss-guy.’” Kelly furrowed her eyebrows. “Yeah, he’s just the guy that’s supposed to be here to make sure everything goes smoothly in the company merger and then hokey-pokey back down to—where is Sabre located?”

“Oh, oh, Florida,” Erin said, nodding excitedly. “Talla-something.”

The word, _Florida_ , the curs-ed word, struck a chord in you, bringing back a thousand memories forgotten in the aftermath of meeting a walking skeleton. Swallowing the lump that found a place in your throat, you continued, “Yeah, he’s going to, uh, return back to Florida when this merger is all over.”

“But are you sure?” Sometimes, despite how annoying he could be, you wished Ryan was here to whisk Kelly away so you could return that client’s call. “Like, he had a whole bunch of stuff shipped up here and didn’t let any of us touch it.”

“What? No, yeah, I’m sure and I—you know what?” That seemed to pique her interest. “I’ll bet you ten dollars that he’ll be gone in less than a month.”

She smirked. “O-kay, but only if you’re sure.” 

“Wait, are you betting me ten dollars, too?”

“Only if you want to, Erin.”

“Oh, then sure, I’ll bet.” 

The conversation seemed to settle, and you were about to shoo them away so you could work when Gabe decided to walk into the Annex. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” He awkwardly waved at you. You could feel the giddy “I told you so” rising up inside Kelly. “And, uh, Erin, Kelly.” Then, it was gone, all of it, in an instant. You could breathe a sigh of relief as he began to walk away. 

He wasn’t singling you out. 

He paused.

Well, until he was. 

“Oh, um, (Y/N), I wanted to get a snack from the vending machine, and I was wondering if you had any suggestions?” It came back and stronger than before, and you could feel it trying to strangle you just like that dream of Scranton Strangler strangling you that you had last month. 

“Oh, um, yeah,” you said, standing up. Both Kelly and Erin’s eyes were on you, burning a hole into your back, as you followed Gabe to the employee lounge.

“And I can get you something too.” He strung his hands. “But only if you want it, of course.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You tugged on the collar of your shirt, glancing at the window glaring into the employee lounge. Of course, Kelly and Erin were not-so-subtly peeking in. Why wouldn’t they? “What kind of, uh, snack do you want? Or like?”

Before you knew it, the nightmare was over and Gabe was somehow walking out of the employee lounge with a half-eaten oatmeal cookie. That basically made up your mind about him, though it had already been made up the moment you laid eyes on him. He was one word—weird. No one else except Brandon down the warehouse got an oatmeal cookie from the vending machine, and you should know because you were basically right next to it twenty-four-seven.

“Did he not offer you anything?” Kelly asked, her arms crossed. She was definitely trying to act serious, but you could tell that she was bursting at the seams with giddiness. Erin, too.

“Yeah,” you said, “he did.”

Erin beat Kelly to the next question.“Where is it?”

“I said ‘no.’” You sat down at your desk.

“Why?” Kelly threw her hands up in the air. “You’re always supposed to accept gifts from dudes. It’s, like, the number one rule of dating.”

“Well, I’m not interested in him,” you said. “And I doubt he is too. He was probably just being polite.”

“That was not him being ‘polite.’ I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he thinks you’re cute.”

You just shook your head. This was getting ridiculous. “Just—look, can I—” 

Kevin poked his head in from the kitchen, cutting you off mid-thought.“Hey, did someone say something about free food?” he asked.

“What?” You rubbed your temples. “No, Kevin.”

“Okay, ‘cause I was just making sure.” With that, he returned to his homeland—the kitchen.

Looking around, your friends had dispersed, and you realized that you could go back to work.

**Good riddance**.


	2. Valentine's Cards, Hershey's Kisses, and Oatmeal Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during the episode "The Manager and the Salesman" from Season 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the positive feedback I got on the first chapter! It really made my heart soar. The quarantine should give me enough time to write fairly consistent updates but please bear with me if I fall behind. Again, I'm still looking for one or two beta readers if anyone may be interested.  
> 

——

**IT WAS** Valentine’s Day. 

Or rather, it was the Friday two days before Valentine’s Day because even the universe decided that you should suffer alone in your apartment instead of with your fellow single colleagues in the office. You had been dreading it for the past two weeks even more so than the upcoming exam in your online college course. It would be the first time in two years—three if you counted the time you got drunk at your friend Jordan’s house party and had sex with his neighbor, but you don’t talk about that—that you would be alone on the most “romantic” day of the year.

“How’s it going over here in the ol’ Annex?” Andy waltzed in from the kitchen, carrying a bundle of red, yellow, and mustard-green envelopes. “It’s kinda cold in here, isn’t it?”

“H—Hey, Andy,” Toby greeted, his swivel chair already facing away from his desk.

You smiled and waved a greeting, pointing at your phone so that he knew, he knew, you were on a call with a client. You can say proudly with experience that if you didn’t reiterate that, they, more so anyone _not_ on the sales team, would try to interrupt you. 

He waved apologetically and placed a red envelope on your desk, mouthing “for you” as he walked by toward Toby. A mustard-green envelope found its way into Toby’s possession who whispered a soft “thank you,” and another red envelope found Kelly’s desk. As he was about to leave, you managed to pull the Valentine’s Day card and candy you brought for him—and, of course, everyone else in the office—from the canvas bag under your desk that your mom had sent you for Christmas. 

Yes, you had gotten a card for everyone in the office. Something about it seemed to comfort you with the recent break-up, but it also served another purpose. You had planned to silence Kelly’s teasing every time Gabe was in the same room as you once and for all. She’d even encouraged you to break up with Ricky to get with him last week, though you were pretty sure that she had a hangover when she said that. And, yes, you hadn’t told her that you and Ricky were very much broken up at this point, but you had no idea what she would do if she found out, and frankly, you weren’t really prepared to deal with that at the moment, being emotionally compromised and all.

So, about the plan, yes. You would give Gabe a Valentine’s Day card, which may seem counter-intuitive until you hear the second part. You would also give everyone else in the office a Valentine’s Day card, thereby not singling him out by not giving him one which to Kelly might seem that you’re trying to throw her off the trail and create more teasing. It was pretty ingenious. 

And, you already bought more than enough candy for everyone. Though, when you say bought, you meant that you took a box home from the office Christmas party in December thinking it was some paperwork you needed to fill out to get a headstart on next quarter’s work but it actually turned out to be full of Hershey’s Kisses instead. Too embarrassed to bring it back, you kept it in your closet, slowly eating away at the supply. Valentine’s Day just seemed too perfect to give away a large portion of it.

“Knock, knock,” you said, rapping your knuckles against the office door.

Gabe looked up at you from his laptop, closing the lid halfway. “Oh, hey.” He gave you his signature awful and utterly awkward smile.

“Uh, nice office, you got here,” you said, fiddling with the bag of candy you had in your hands. 

“Huh? Oh.” He looked around him for a moment. “Yeah, it’s definitely better than the conference room or the break room, for sure.” There was a moment of uncomfortable luke-warm butter silence before he cleared his throat. “Is there, um, something I can help you with, though? Not that I don’t appreciate you dropping in, though. It’s nice to talk to someone other than Jo every once in a while.” He laughed awkwardly but something about his tone of voice made you think he wasn’t joking about that.

“Oh, um, yeah.” You handed him the bag of chocolates and his card, doing your best to avoid touching his hands, but nevertheless, you were unsuccessful in your endeavors as his gangly thumb briefly rubbed against the side of your index finger. Ew, gross. “Those are for you. I always get stuff for everyone in the office on Valentine’s Day so that they can enjoy it even if they’re single. So, happy Valentine’s Day.” You weakly did a show of jazz hands.

“Oh, well, thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.” He turned the card over in his hands. “Do you mind if I open it now?”

You shook your head. “Nope, not all.” You did though. You did mind.

He carefully opened the envelope and took out your card like he was performing surgery. “ _Today you are you, that is truer than true,_ ” he said, reading the front of the card. "That's cute."

You hadn’t actually expected to read it aloud and kind of hoped he wouldn’t. 

He opened the rest of the card. “ _There is no one alive who is you-er than you. A happy Valentine’s Day from me to you. Adieu, (Y/N)._ ” He closed the card “Thank you, that was really sweet of you.”

“Well, uh, you’re welcome.” It was a store-bought card. It was neither thoughtful nor sweet.

“I can tell you’re a big fan of Theodor Geisel,” he commented, looking momentarily proud of himself. “A.K.A. Dr. Seuss, yeah.” 

“Oh, mmm, yeaah.” Maybe, if you inched slowly enough away, he wouldn’t notice you were leaving.

“Well, you know, with the little bobblehead on your desk.” He slid the card back into its envelope and set it aside on his desk. “And the quote in your card was from _Horton Hears a Who_ , if I’m not mistaken.” 

“Mmm, yep, I think so—” you were already taking your leave— ”and um, well, you probably have a lot of work to do, and I also need to get back to work now, got to take some calls and such.” You made a phone sign with your hand. “So, yeah, if you’ll excuse me.” 

“Of course, of course,” he said. “Au revoir.”

—— 

“ _You brighten my day with the sound of your voice_ ,” Kelly read from her card. “ _You bring so much laughter and love. You’re everything to me, and I was so blessed when God sent you here me_.”

“Jeez, Louise.” There was a tinge of disappointment in Erin’s voice that you just barely picked up on.

“Wow.”

You weren’t the type of person to readily make assumptions about other people’s relationships as you felt that that whole ordeal was a little bit too “sticky,” but something about Kelly’s card seemed off to you. If your memory served you correctly, which sometimes it didn’t, Andy didn’t spend nearly as much time with Kelly as he did with Erin. In fact, you don’t remember them talking in the last week on top of the fact that he didn’t bother delivering her card in person. 

Things just didn’t add up. 

“I know.” She closed the card and set it down. “Obsessed with me much?”

“Well, everyone got one.”

“What did yours say?” Kelly folded her arms across her chest.

“ _Friends are worth sharing a doghouse with_.” She looked down, almost disappointedly, at the drink cupped in her hands. “Yeah.” 

“See?” You kind of felt bad for Erin. “(Y/N), what did yours say?”

“Oh, um…” You swallowed your mouthful of chips. “It was along the lines of… _I know being single on Valentine’s Day can suck, but it’s so much better than dating some idiot. Wishing you all the love in the world this Valentine’s Day_.”

“Oh…” Erin frowned. “That’s kind of rude, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s, like, really rude,” Kelly said, running a hand through her hair. “But sometimes you have to sacrifice for true love, that’s what Ryan always tells me. So, it’s okay if Andy’s a little rude to people, maybe that makes him a bad boy.”

Yeah, it would be rude, if you were still dating Ricky, but like stated before, you weren’t. But no one in the office, to the best of your knowledge, knew about that little secret. You knew how fast gossip could spread in the office if you even told one person. 

So, that leaves the question—how did Andy find out? 

“Uh, hey, guys.” Gabe waved in his usual awkward fashion as he entered the break room and made his way toward the vending machine. 

“Hi, Gabe,” Erin said, and you mumbled along with her.

Your eyes wandered over to Kelly, expecting to see the dreadful giddy smile she’d put on every time Gabe would enter the room, but it wasn’t there. She didn’t even seem to acknowledge his presence, reading over her card from Andy again. 

“Just, you know, getting a cookie from the, uh, ol’ vending machine.” He chuckled to himself, slipping a few dollars into the slot. “Treating myself today be-cause it’s almost Valentine’s Day, kind of a special day.”

Kelly looked up for the first time since he walked in. “Didn’t you get a cookie yesterday?”

He looked like he had swallowed a ghost. “Um, yes, I did.” Or maybe a ghost had swallowed him. “It was also a special occasion… of sorts—my birth father’s birthday.” He shook his head and whispered, “And not Albert’s. Thank God.”

He pressed a couple of buttons on the vending machine, causing it to push out an oatmeal cookie. “Oh, would you look at that.” He glanced over at your table. You were all uncomfortably silent. “I must have put in too much, silly me. Um, would you guys like something? A cookie? Or a cereal bar? Ummm…” Your table gave no answer. 

“Okay.” He sighed and pressed the same buttons, releasing another oatmeal cookie from the vending machine. Snatching up the cookie, he began what to you looked a walk of shame out of the break room. Before leaving the break room, he turned around and said, “Also, FYI, your lunch break ends in about…” He pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch. “… seven minutes.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Bye, Gabe,” Erin called. 

When Gabe had fully left the site of the break room door, Kelly said, “What even was that?”

Erin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Glancing at the Annex through the break room windows, you caught a glimpse of Gabe walking past your desk. When his tall frame cleared away, you noticed a cookie on your desk. An oatmeal cookie.

**Odd**.

—— 

Andy was by the coffee machine in the kitchen, and—the best part about it?—he was alone. It was the perfect time to strike. You got up from your desk, drawing the curious gaze of Toby, and made your way into the kitchen, making sure to close the door behind you.

“Hey, Andy.”

“Wha—” He nearly jumped out of his skin, accidentally spilling a quarter of his cup of coffee all over his hands. “Ah, shoot.” He placed the cup back down on the counter and reached for a paper towel. Wiping his hands and his coffee mug off, he said, “You, uh, you scared me.” He wouldn’t be the first.

“Um, so what’s up?”

You held up your Valentine from him. “Care to explain this?”

“It’s—It’s the card I gave you for Valentine’s Day?” Not only did he look confused, but he also looked alarmed. Was he about to be murdered in a kitchen by his co-worker before he could go on one date with Erin?

“Well, yes, but what about this?” You opened the card. “ _I know being single on Valentine’s Day can suck, but it’s so much better than dating some idiot._ ”

“ _Yeah_ … what about it?”

“How did you know I was single?” you hissed. “I haven’t told anyone in the office; I haven’t even updated my relationship status on Facebook.”

Andy rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, because he did?”

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “How—what?”

“I’m friends, or was friends, with Ricky, or as we called him in my music theory class at Cornell, “Big Dicky,” on Facebook, and he changed his relationship status to ‘it’s complicated,’ which, you know, put up a couple of red flags on its own,” Andy explained. “But, you also came into work, uh, about two weeks ago looking like you just puked into a toilet, not how you should look after a week-long trip alone with your honey—I know I wouldn’t if I had a honey to go on vacation with—so, uh, I kinda just _assumed_ that things turned sour and you two broke up.” He clapped his hands together. “So, yeah.”

“Oh.” You looked taken aback. “Okay, well, um, can you, _please_ , not tell anyone in the office about this?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he said. “You got the Nard Dog’s word, and that is un-break-able.”

“Great,” you said. “Thanks.” With that, you spun on your heel and left the kitchen. 

Andy sighed in relief, picking up his cup of coffee that had since cooled significantly.

“What was that about?” Kevin asked as he walked in.

“You do not want to know.” Andy took a sip of his coffee. It was definitely too cold now. “Believe me.”

“But I do want to know.”

“You really don’t.” He poured out his coffee into the kitchen sink.

——

“Do you remember her usually taking this long?”

“Mmm, nope.” Erin shook her head. “But she just got rejected by Andy so I don’t know.”

Whenever she wasn’t dating Ryan, Kelly would walk with Erin and you down to the parking lot. She was usually the first one to wait out by reception while you took a measly last place. Today, your roles had been reversed.

“Yeah, it just didn’t seem like an Andy-thing to be interested in her,” you said. “No offense to her, though.”

“None taken,” Erin said, popping a Life Saver in her mouth. She tossed the plastic wrapping into the trash can, incidentally drawing your gaze to its contents. One thing stood out to you like a sore thumb amongst the other garbage—a red envelope with Gabe’s name written on it.

“That son of a…” You bent down next to it and stuck your hand in it. “ _Sweet and thoughtful_ , my ass.” Why you suddenly cared about this very matter, you didn’t know, but by God, you weren’t going to allow him to butter you up, though rather awkwardly and sort of unsuccessfully, and throw your card in the trash.

“(Y/N)!” Kelly shrieked. “What are you doing stuffing your arm in a gross trash can?”

“Because of this.” You held up the envelope.

“What is that?” She tilted her head to the side. “The card Andy gave you?”

You frowned. “No, no, of course not. It’s the card I gave Gabe.” You stood up. “It was in the trash.”

“What. An. Asshole,” Kelly said. “We should barge into his office right now and give him what for—a slap or something, I don’t know.” She grabbed your arm. “Come on.”

“No, no, Kelly, I—”

Pam looked up from her desk, a little confused and possibly startled about what was currently transpiring and was going to transpire. “What’s going on?”

“That douchebag—” she pointed at Gabe’s office— “threw the card (Y/N) gave him in the freaking garbage.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry,” Jim said, exchanging a look with his wife. 

“Yeah, that really sucks.”

“Well, it’s not going to suck anymore when he gets a black eye from messing with the wrong girl’s friend.” She started pulling you along.

“Kelly, stop. Kelly. Kelly, stop.” You tried to slow her down. “I really appreciate the help but I—I think I can handle this on my own.”

“Wait.” She stopped, giving you a strange look. “Are you sure? Because I can totally make sure he never messes with you again.” She let go of your arm. “Like ever.”

“Yeah, yeah, I sure.” You rubbed the spot where she was clenching your arm. “I think I can handle this.”

“Well, okay, but I’m not waiting for you to leave,” she said, turning to leave. “Come on, Erin.”

You caught a glimpse of Jim shaking his head in your peripheral vision. “Yeah, that’s… fine.” 

As you began your short walk up to his office, you felt your momentary anger simmer, and most of all, you felt yourself getting cold feet. This wasn’t even that big of a deal. All it did was hurt your pride, which you also happened to have very little of at the moment.

You were about to turn around and leave when you saw him reading your card, the card he had suppos-edly thrown away, and mumbling to himself. Frozen in place, you considered how light the envelope felt in your hands and how utterly you stupid you felt at this moment when he happened to look up to see you.

“Oh, hey.” He quickly stashed your card in his bag. “Is there, uh, something I can help you with?”

You hid the envelope behind your back. “Um, nope, nope, just, uh, saying goodbye,” you said. “I’m, uh, just trying to start a tradition to say goodbye to everyone, yeah.”

“Of course.” An awkward smile appeared. “Well, ciao.”

“Wait, um, are you—when do you get to leave?” you asked, pointing your thumb toward the front door. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“It could be in five minutes,” he continued, “or in four hours. It just depends on when Jo finishes.”

“Really?”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Yep.”

“Oh, um, well…” You didn’t really know what to say. “Uh, bye, I guess, Gabe. See you on Monday.” You tightened the strap of your bag and left without hearing his reply.

“ **Ciao.** ” He waved, quite pathetically, even though he knew you couldn’t see him.


	3. Chill, It's Just Food Poisoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the feedback I've been receiving, and I want you all to know that I appreciate all of it even if I take a while to reply. I would also like to thank y'all for bearing with me as this chapter took a little while to finish. It's also really long too! I'm really excited about where the story is going, and I hope y'all are too.  
>   
>  **Note:** There is a minor spoiler for _Psycho_ (1960) and _Psycho_ (novel) by Robert Bloch at the end of the chapter.

——

**3:29 AM.**

You were awoken—not by an alarm or the radiator chugging away at itself or the home phone ringing in your kitchen because some guy half-way across the world wanted to trick you into draining your bank account but—by a nauseous feeling in your gut. It wasn't subtle either, like someone had punched you in the gut or shook your insides around until everything was nowhere near where it should be.

With one hand over your mouth and the other cradling your stomach, you were out of bed, down the hall, and in your bathroom, puking last night’s microwave dinner into the bowl, in less than fifty seconds flat. It took much longer than that—you couldn’t tell exactly how long but it was _long_ —for your body to decide that all the gunk had been cleared from your system, but by then, you were more than ready to pass out on your bathroom floor. 

——

Erin looked up from her computer at reception. “Gabe? What’s that?” 

“Hmm? Oh…” Gabe held the Wal-mart bag to his side, squeezing it until his fist turned white. 

He went shopping yesterday morning, bright and early, but he didn't shop at a Wal-mart, though—he’d never even stepped foot inside a Wal-mart. 

“Yeah, who’s that bag of stuff for, cutie?” Meredith called.

He went to Target, shopping for groceries and such, but also for a card—a Valentine’s Day card. There was even a sale, surprisingly enough to him, for that type of card and a whole bunch of heart-shaped chocolates and red roses; it was an almost sinful steal even if the cashier gave him a pitiful look when he showed up to the register with a card and a jug of milk. 

The reason that he was carrying a Wal-mart bag was a whole other can of worms. Simply put, when the cashier at Target asked if he needed a bag, he didn't hear her clearly, froze, and shook his head in any old direction. So, long story short: he didn’t get the bag. There was, however, a plastic Wal-mart bag running wild in the parking lot this morning, and at the moment, it seemed less conspicuous to carry around a Wal-mart bag than a bag of Royce chocolates and a Valentine's Day card.

Clearly, he was wrong.

“It’s nothing and no one.” He shook his head. “Just for me.”

“I’ll take it,” Creed said as Gabe passed close to his desk in his path toward his office. “If no one else wants it.” 

When Gabe finally disappeared into his office, Pam let out a giggle, sharing a rather confused look with her husband who merely shrugged and shook his head. She sighed wistfully and wrote something down a sticky note, passing it to him. He tried to suppress a laugh and nodded as he looked over to Pam who was smiling all giddy-like. 

Gabe took a seat at his desk, set up his laptop, and just sat there, staring at the screen. After a moment, he sighed and plucked a pen from the cup on his desk. He scribbled the word “the” on a hot pink sticky note and paused as if in thought before grumbling, snatching up the note, crumpling it up, and tossing it into the trash can. 

He missed.

He groaned and stood up to put the ball of pink back in its place. “That should teach you.” He shook his finger at the trash can, a small smile forming on his lips. “To disrespect your superior, huh?”

That felt… nice. Even if it was just a pink wad of paper.

As he turned to return to his desk, he peeked his head out of his office and looked toward reception. No one was there—well, Erin was there, but not the person he had his eye on: you. Not in a bad way though. It was more of a casual thing. Like, he thought you were a little cute, that's all. He wasn’t watching you. No, of course not. He just had his eye, a singular eye, not both, on you, and, again, not in a bad way.

He pursed his lips, eyeing the door to the kitchen. A thought crossed his mind—maybe, he had missed you come in or maybe you had come in before him. Unlikely, yes, you came in around the same time every day—he knew that—but it was still a possibility. He looked from the Wal-mart bag on his desk to the kitchen door then back. 

Finally, after taking a breath, multiple short breaths, and one very long final breath, he grabbed the bag from his desk and scurried, not-so-subtly, to the kitchen, though not many eyes bothered to follow his sudden departure from his office anyway. He passed through the kitchen, slowing his pace slightly but still almost toppling over the plant in the kitchen, before arriving in the Annex.

Much to his dismay, you were not there. 

It was a disappointment. Not the most disappointing thing he’s experienced in his twenty-six years on this planet, mind you, but disappointing nonetheless. If he had to rank it, this disappointment would rank #1,289, right behind the time his step-father sent him a get-well-soon card that was meant for a woman named Beatrice living in the Galápagos instead of his twenty-second birthday card, and right before the time his mother called him Wade—she corrected herself though— when she came to visit him in Japan for his graduation ceremony. Make of that what you will. 

Maybe, it would be better just to leave it here for you, Gabe decided. He did it before with the cookie, so why not now? 

Sighing to himself, he took your card out of the Wal-mart bag and propped it up against your Cat in the Hat bobblehead as if the cat was the one giving you the card. He kept the candy in the bag, for the sake of protecting it from any watchful passerby, and tucked it in the space between your keyboard and your computer monitor. With what he had, it was almost perfect.

Almost. 

He left your desk to return to his office just as Toby left the break room. Toby stood there a moment, in slight disbelief, as he stared at the little arrangement on your desk. He shook his head and mumbled something to himself under his breath before returning to his desk. 

——

Lunch time, lunch time, lunch time. Everyone in the office’s favorite time of day. Whether it was at their desk, in the kitchen, or in the break room, everyone seemed to get along during lunch time. Food just brings people together, you know? 

However, this typically wasn't the case for Gabe, who normally sat alone in his office during his lunch break, if you could even call it a break. He worked through his lunch break most days, barely making a dent into whatever he happened to bring which was usually either an almond butter and apricot preserves sandwich or take-out from a Chinese-Japanese restaurant a block from his apartment. There was still a mountain of paperwork to do, not to mention all the calls he had to make, for the merger, much more than you could imagine, so working through lunch and his break made perfect sense. 

Though, last Wednesday, he found a tiny amount of free time in his schedule to squeeze in some lunch time in the break room. He’d brought Chinese food with him that day and was scooping chicken out of the box with his chopsticks when he noticed your gaze. You were sitting at the other table, Kelly talking over you and Erin about something related to Ryan—or was it Mean Girls? Or shoes?—and the only other interesting thing in the break room to look at happened to be him, of all things, using chopsticks. 

He had, what one would call, an audience. No, he wasn’t one to play with his food, a rather childish thing, but he tried to do something compelling with the chunks of meat he had available to him. He tossed the chicken in the air a couple of times, catching it just barely with his chopsticks and once with his mouth. It earned a smile, no matter how weak, on your part. 

Then, he dropped a piece of meat on the floor, and in a moment, it was over. He left the break room in an embarrassed scurry, his face redder than Dwight’s beets. Part of you wished he stayed; it was far more interesting to watch him than listen to Kelly talk about whatever shoe brand she found the most comfortable. But it wasn’t like you were going to go after him or anything.

Today, he sat in the break room for lunch. Not because he had a moment of free time, but because he wanted to see your reaction to what he left at your desk. Except for the fact, that you had not touched your desk nor had anyone else. You weren’t even sitting with Kelly and Erin at lunch. Though, neither of them were sitting in the break room either. They were both in the kitchen, but the fact still remained: you were not there. 

If he got up to leave, that would look conspicuous, but he didn't want to sit there either. It was one thing to be alone in your office and another to sit alone at a table in a room full of people, people who he hardly knew on top of that. Sure, he'd had light conversations here and there, but he'd only had a conversation longer than four sentences a handful of them including Michael, Erin, and, of course, you. So, of course, he felt awkward, self-conscious even, poking at his chicken with his chopsticks as he sat alone in a room he didn't particularly want to be in anymore.

“Hey, hey, Gabe, are you gonna finish that?”

He looked up from his lunch, a look of slight confusion on his brow, to see the face of Kevin staring him down as he now sat in the seat across from him. “Hmmm?”

“He wants your lunch,” Angela grumbled, stabbing a fork into her salad. “Like he hasn’t had enough already.”

“Umm, I think he knows that, Angela,” Kevin said. “I just asked him for it, and he’s like the new boss guy, so he’s probably smart, like Michael.”

She shoved a cherry tomato between her lips. “Uh huh.” 

“Sooo…” Kevin rapped his fingers against the table.

Gabe glanced between his mostly unfinished lunch and Kevin’s hungry gaze. “Uh, sure.” He slid the box over to him. “You can have it.” He might as well; it wasn’t like he was going to finish it anyway.

Angela looked on in disgust as Kevin greedily went to work to devour Gabe’s lunch. “Really? He doesn’t need it, and uck…” She gave Gabe a once-over and mumbled, “And you look like you could use it.”

“Well,” Gabe said, “sharing food with co-workers increases friendly relationship strength in office environments by forty percent. It’s in the Sabre manual, section: office relationships, page four-hundred-fifty-one.”

“See, Angela,” Kevin said through a mouthful of food, “he’s like really smart, right?”

She shook her head in annoyance. “Yeah, sure.”

Gabe stood in an effort to leave. “Well, I should probably get back to work now.” No response from the peanut gallery per usual. He wiped his palms on the legs of his pants and walked out of the break room but not before putting on that awkward smile of his. 

On his way back to his desk, he stopped in front of yours. Still, nothing had been touched—surprising, considering the reputation of some people in the office, but I digress. 

Sighing dejectedly to himself, Gabe leaned over your desk to get a better look at your Cat in the Hat bobblehead—he could never get a good look at it whenever you were there. It was mostly intact—the cat still had his hat and both of his arms were still wrapped around Sally and Conrad—but the figure still showed signs from the wear and tear over the years. The red paint showed signs of chipping, the black paint on the cat’s eyes was completely gone, leaving the cat with an uncanny mile-long blank state, and most of all, Conrad was missing his head. It was really a mystery why you hadn’t thrown it away by now, if anyone was being completely honest. 

His eyes drifted across your desk to the picture partially obscured by your computer monitor. It had the classic grain, blur, and red-eye effect of an old photo taken on some cheap camera the size of a wallet, but he could still easily make it out. You sat on a couch, most likely in your apartment, with a black and white cat on your lap. A man’s arm was around your shoulder but the left side of the photo where he would be sitting was cut out. 

“H—Hey, Gabe,” Toby said, causing Gabe to slink away from the desk. “What are… What are you doing over here?” He gestured vaguely around him with his hands and half-empty Penn State coffee mug. Though, anyone with even half a brain could guess what he was referring to.

“Hmmm?” Gabe pursed his lips, searching for an excuse in the back of his mind. “Oh, well… I… I have yet to see (Y/N) at work today, and I was wondering if… you might have seen them, just in case I missed them.” 

“Oh, actually, I did…” He lowered his mug. “I did actually get a call—”

“Oh my God! Ryan Bailey!” Kelly stood at the doorway in the kitchen, squeezing her plastic cup of iced coffee with a vice-like grip. “I cannot believe that you did that! And with her?”

“Oh, Kelly, come on,” Ryan said. “Kelly, it was just for one night, okay? I—I bought some chocolate, all you have to do is come over tonight, okay?” 

“You know what?” Kelly’s drink was one the verge of bursting. “You know what? Ryan?” She pointed a finger at his chest. “The answer is ‘no.’ Come back when you have roses and the answer might be different.” With that, she stormed away to her cubicle.

Ryan shook his head, clenching the newspaper roll tight in his fist, and went back into the kitchen.

“Anway, what I was saying…”

Gabe put up a finger. “Hold that thought.” 

He left Toby and followed Kelly into her gray-padded cubicle. By the time he got there, she was already jabbering, and somewhat loud too, to someone on the phone. Her eyes caught him almost immediately, a deep scowl forming on her features. 

She murmured something into the receiver before lowering the phone to her shoulder and sent a dirty look toward Gabe. “What do you want, douchebag? Can’t you tell I’m on the phone with a client?”

For a brief moment, a look of surprise crossed his face—he’d been called by an endless list of colorful nicknames and insults over the years; however, this one was new—but he quickly recovered his composure. “Kelly, look, I’m sorry, but that is no way to talk to…” She continued to glare at him. “Never…mind—” he swallowed—“just, have you seen (Y/N) at work today?”

“Hmmm… and why would you care?”

“Okay, well, for starters, I’m their boss and need to know whether or not they showed up for work today or not, and,” Gabe said, “I also happened to bring them something because—”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, that.”

“Huh?”

“You know, if you really think that your bargain-bin Sweetarts and a card that cost like fifty cents wrapped up in a Wal-mart bag are going to cut it for what you did, mister, then you probably don’t deserve a brain. (Y/N) would never accept something as garbage and thoughtless as that, and sure, they may have a terrible fashion sense and a really weird obsession with Dr. Seuss, but they also have dignity and a loving boyfriend who treats them better than you ever could,” Kelly said. “They’re probably out right now having a cutesy date or something, I don’t know. But even if I did know where they were, I wouldn’t tell a creep like you.” She spun around in her chair. “Get lost.”

“Kelly…"

“I said, _shoo_!” 

He backed up, almost hitting the back wall of the cubicle, and left like a wounded puppy. That didn’t go as planned. That didn’t go as planned at all.

“Gabe,” Toby said, “I… I was trying to say that (Y/N) called in sick this morning.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

——

Reaching over the side of the couch, you dragged your hands across the carpet until you felt the cold bottom of your Ben and Jerry’s. You picked it up and sat it on your chest, shoveling a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. A rerun of an episode of George Lopez was playing quietly in the background on TV as you laid on the couch, a cat grooming himself as he sat between your legs. 

Man, was this the life. Even if you had a plastic tub on the floor just in case your stomach wanted to drain its contents again. It was still the life.

Then, the phone rang in the kitchen, not only disturbing your peace but that of your cat grooming himself. He sprang up and ran toward your bedroom for cover but not before kicking your inner thigh at his escape. 

It hurt, okay? 

The phone rang three times, each louder than the last, but you weren’t about to get up. You would call whoever it was back later.

“Hello…” Oh no. “… this is Gabe Lewis from Sabre. I’m calling to confirm that you are, in fact, taking a sick day today—Monday, February 15th—so that it can be properly notated. Please give me a call back at your soonest possible convenience at the following number—” Maybe you should have read that section on sick days in the Sabre handbook. “Thank you and have a nice day.” 

You would probably get up after you finished the quart of ice cream or even later—who knows?—just not at this moment, no.

A moment later, the phone rang again. 

And again.

And again. 

And you really hoped it was a call from CVS to tell you that your prescription had been filled.

“Hello…” 

But unfortunately… 

“… this is Gabe Lewis from Sabre.” 

It was not. 

——

“I just wanted to say that I called them twenty times, and they still haven’t called back,” Gabe said. “But—but I would have called more, their answering machine is full though… so….”

“Gabe, honey, really, it’s good… to talk to you, but I don’t even know who _they_ is nor what this is even about,” Jo said, staring at him through the computer screen. 

“Oh, okay, well, _they_ is (Y/N) (L/N).” He smiled.

“Who?”

“Um, they're a customer service representative for the Scranton Branch,” he said, embarrassed. “And—and they haven’t be to work today, and I just fear—”

“Gabe, honey,” Jo cut him off. “Whatever is going on down there is probably not that big of a problem, especially if it’s just one customer service rep, okay?”

“But—”

“No, buts, ” she said. “God, you sound like my nephew.” She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. “Look, I can’t be having you calling me all the time—these folks up in Binghamton are trouble enough today.”

“I can drive up there if you need help—”

“No, no,” she said, “you don’t need to do that. I probably need to turn in early anyway—that means you can too, at five o’ course.”

“Oh, wait, before you go,” he said, “may I have access to the address records?”

Jo furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t know why you would be needing to see those, honey, but even if they weren’t backlogged right now, the answer would still be no.” She sighed. “Goodbye.”

Her face disappeared from his screen.

“Ciao,” he mumbled. 

Slumping back in his chair—it was rather uncomfortable wasn’t it?—Gabe looked out the windows in his office. There was always a way to get around unexpected problems. His eyes landed on Erin. There was always a way.

——

Erin carefully turned the phone until it pointed away from the desk at a forty-five degree angle. She considered it for a moment before shaking her head—not far enough. She turned it again until it pointed away from the desk at a fifty degree angle. 

“Ahem.”

“Oh, um…” She pushed the phone back and looked up. “Oh, hello, Gabe!” She put on a cheery smile. “How can I help you?”

“Yeah, uh…” He rapped his knuckles against the counter. “You’ve been to (Y/N)’s home, correct?”

“Yep!”

“Great,” he said. “Would you happen to remember the address?” 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. “Sort of.”

“Hmmm?” He tilted his head. “Sort of?”

Without answering him, Erin got up from her chair and knelt down behind her desk before lifting a huge cardboard box onto the desk. “I don’t normally remember things like addresses and stuff so I print out the directions,” she said, beginning to sift through the stack of directions inside the box. “I probably would have gotten lost driving over to their apartment if it weren’t for these.” She gestured toward the directions inside the box. 

“I went over there, mmm, about two months ago to watch a movie. Kelly wanted to watch Mean Girls for like the hundredth time,” she said, “but, um, Ricky—or Dicky? Or Ricky Dicky? Or someone that I’m pretty sure is (Y/N)’s boyfriend, I don’t know—made us watch a movie about this space guy who fought other space guys with these, oh, oversized glow sticks and lazers.” She shook her head. “It really wasn’t my thing though.”

“Here we go.” She pulled a set of directions out of the box. “Just let me make a copy for you.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Gabe said. “I don’t need all that, just the address is fine.”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled. “… yep.” 

Time seemed to slow down as he waited for Erin to make a copy. 

That or the fact that the directions to your apartment happened to be ten pages long because Erin printed them in a twenty-point font and that the copier was God-knows-how-old and had a fifty-fifty chance of actually copying your documents. 

“Here you go, Gabe.” 

“Oh!” He came back to senses. “Thank you, Erin.” He took the directions from her outstretched hand. “This is very helpful.” 

“You’re welcome!”

He turned away to head back to his office.

“Oh, Gabe, wait,” she said.

He turned around. “Hmmm?”

She had a giddy smile on her face. “Good luck.” She gave him two thumbs-up.

“Um…” He smiled. “Thanks… Thank you.”

——

Okay, so what if it took you four hours to get around to calling Gabe back? You had better things to do—like watch Titanic for the fifth time and cry and eat ice cream and take a nap, that stuff’s important too. And also very similar to your routine after you broke up with Ricky, but that’s not relevant. The point is—you were getting back to him.

Afterall, he was the one who clogged up your answering machine—which, under different circumstances, would be exactly like one of those cheesy 90’s teen chick-flicks where the male love interest would leave heartfelt voicemails on the girl’s home phone until it was full. But again, under different circumstances. And hearing his voice repeat the same thing for the twentieth time made you want to yank your ears clean off and rip the phone from the wall.

The phone rang once.

Then twice.

Then a third time. 

“Hello,” came Erin’s voice, “this is Dunder-Mifflin.” Thank God. 

“Unfortunately, we’re not op-an right now.” Was that Michael’s voice?

“Please call back later,” Erin said, “or tomorrow or leave a message after the beep.”

Michael made a “beep” sound.

"Nope." You hung up. There was no point in leaving a message anyway—among other reasons. You would just have to talk to him at work tomorrow.

Going back to sit on the couch, a rather loud knock came from your front door, arousing the suspicion of your cat who stared at it warily from his perch on one of the arms of your scratched-up leather armchair. You weren’t expecting anyone just yet—your pizza would take another thirty minutes at least. So, you really hoped it wasn’t the Randall twins who lived with their mother down the hall; you couldn’t count the number of times they rudely knocked on your door and ran back to their mother’s apartment before you could catch them, but you knew it “those rambunctious red-heads living down the hall” since you caught them doing the same thing to your elderly neighbor, Gary, when you were returning home one day after shopping for groceries. 

Let’s just say that their mother wasn’t very happy to find out about this.

Then came another knock, this time louder than the last.

You sighed—curiosity killed the cat. Despite looking like you just rolled out of bed, you opened your apartment door, expecting no one to be there—but satisfaction brought it back.

The door revealed a tall man—a freakishly tall man. “How the…” But not just any ordinary tall man, oh no.

“Hey, I just wanted to—” Gabe looked down at you. “Oh…”

“Hi,” you said, crossing your arms. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat along with his confidence. “Okay, uh…” He pursed his lips. “Is—is this a bad time? Should I come back?”

You couldn’t tell if you should feel sorry for him, annoyed at him, embarrassed about your current appearance, or mildly perturbed and creeped out that he somehow found a way to get a hold of your address. “Um, nope, not really.” But either way, you found some sort of wry amusement about this whole situation. 

“Well, okay…” He fiddled with the strap on his laptop bag. “Uh…”

“Uh-uh, no, bad.” You looked down at the black and white cat trying to escape through your legs. “Don’t—nope, Seuss.” You pushed him back with your foot. 

Sighing, you looked back up at Gabe. “Um, you know what? Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, okay, uh, sure,” he said. “That would be great actually.”

“Great.” You picked up your misbehaving feline friend and let Gabe inside your apartment. According to all the movies you’ve watched, this was either the start of a trashy rom-com or a B horror movie. You couldn’t tell which scenario would be worse. 

Once the door was securely closed, you placed Seuss down, who promptly turned around to try and escape through the nearly impenetrable door before him. That’s what you get for adopting a stray cat—he always wants to see the great outdoors even when he shouldn’t.

Gabe stood in the middle of your living room, right next to the coffee table and obviously eyeing your armchair with mild concern. Yes, you had a cat scratching post for Seuss. No, he did not use it, not even once.

“Feel free to sit… anywhere,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward the space around you. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Seuss walk away from the front door discouraged. “Please keep an eye on him.”

No, you were not talking to Gabe. “Okay…” But he thought you were.

You went into your bedroom and made a beeline for your dresser, rummaging through it for an actual pair of pants and a shirt that didn’t have a conspicuous-looking ketchup stain on it. Once you found some, you put them on and smoothed out your hair to at least look somewhat presentable compared to your bedhead, old t-shirt, and pajama shorts self. You kept your colorful socks on though. They were nice.

Walking back into your living room, you immediately noticed the black and white ball of fur curled up comfortably on Gabe's lap. Gabe, on the other hand, was at a general loss for words and looked like a nervous mannequin, staring at Seuss in utter bewilderment. It wasn’t like Seuss was going to eat him or anything, geez.

You took a seat in your armchair, trying to hide your amused pity with a straight face. 

Gabe looked at you for help, holding his stick arms at eye level in order to not touch Seuss. “Is… _this_ normal? Are cats supposed to do this?” he asked, panic edging on his voice. “I’ve… I’ve supported a couple animal shelters but…” 

“For him, it’s normal, I guess,” you said. “It just means he likes you.” Seuss was never wary of strangers, loud noises and ice cream trucks, yes, but never strangers. “I can get him off you if you’re afraid of him shedding on your suit.”

“Oh, no, no, that’s fine,” he said, tentatively touching Seuss’ head which was practically engulfed by Gabe’s hand. 

“So, do Sabre employees usually make house calls or just you?” you asked. 

He poked Seuss’ nose. “No, no, no, not typically.” He glanced up at you from Seuss. “But I did come over to discuss a few important items with you.”

“About the twenty-something voicemails you left me?” 

“…yes.”

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls, okay?” you said. “I was kinda groveling on the couch like an immobile sea clam from an overnight virus or some sort of food poisoning, I don’t know.”

“I guess that would explain this,” he mumbled, tapping the tub on the floor with the toe of his shoe. “But you weren’t pretending to be sick to skip work?”

“Do I look like—” You furrowed your eyebrows. “How did you get that idea? Kelly?”

His silence basically confirmed it.

“God,” you groaned. “You asked—trusted—Kelly, Kelly of all people, over Michael or… or Toby? The people who I called this morning at seven about this whole thing?” You couldn’t tell what you were feeling—angry, frustrated, tired, confused, hungry? 

Gabe scrunched up, holding his knees with his hands and scaring Seuss from his lap in the process. “Okay, I did—I did ask Toby, but Kelly also presented a realistic scenario especially after Valentine’s Day,” he said. “And it’s also corporate policy to call your boss when you’re going to miss work, and I know some people at your branch don’t realize it yet, but I am your boss.”

Oh, where to start. “What _‘realistic scenario’_ did she—Kelly—present?”

“That you were on a date with your…” Embarrassment crept up on his face. “…boyfriend.” 

“Oh…” You had really hoped for something else—anything else. 

He squeezed his knees. “Which is perfectly reasonable, and I don’t doubt that you have a boyfriend in the slightest.”

“Um, yeah, n… no, I don’t, I mean I did, have a boyfriend, haven’t for weeks,” you said, your voice suddenly quiet. “Most people don’t know in the office.”

“Oh, hey,” he said, reaching a hand out in a failed attempt to comfort you in some way. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” You didn’t let him touch you, but you did let Seuss onto your lap. “Just, please, don’t tell anyone in the office. I don’t think it would be appropriate anyway.”

“Don’t worry.” He made a motion across his lips with his fingers as if he was zipping them closed. “My lips… are sealed.” He let out an awkward laugh.

And you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. 

“Oh, uh, and before I forget,” Gabe said, reaching for his bag. “This is for you.” He took out a Valentine’s Day card and a bag of Royce chocolates. 

You accepted the unexpected, but completely welcome, gift. “Wow, um, thank you.”

“Sorry that it’s kinda late,” he said. “I didn’t really expect the Valentine’s gift you gave me anyway. It’s been a little while since I’ve actually received something for Valentine’s Day and all.”

“When… when was that?”

“Sixth grade,” he said, “if I recall that correctly.”

“No girlfriend or anything?”

“Oh, no, no, I’ve been with a bunch of girls,” he said. “They were just not the ‘gift giving’ type, but they really liked the gifts I gave them and—and hugs. That’s all some of them wanted to do—hug.” He seemed proud of that fact.

“Oh, um okay…” You felt kind of sorry for him. “So no current girlfriend then?”

“Heh, I wish,” he said, “but Jo always keeps me busy. So, I don’t have the time, really.”

Before you could formulate a reply, a knock came from the front door. This time, it was expected and very welcome to your growling stomach.

“Are you expecting someone?”

You stood. “Yeah, actually.” You placed your “gifts” on the coffee and picked up your wallet from your TV stand as you made your way to the door. In a few short minutes, you came back in, carrying a pizza box. 

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “Oh.” 

“Um, I don’t know how long you were planning on being here, but I was planning to kick back and eat this pizza… by myself,” you said. “But you can have some if you want to stick around for a while longer and maybe watch something, I guess?” You mentally kicked yourself.

“Oh, okay, well, sure,” he said. “Why not?” He stood to follow you to the kitchen. “What type of pizza did you order?”

You don’t know why you did that. 

Not in the slightest. 

Were you lonely? Just being polite? You rarely had anyone from work over at your apartment for a long list of reasons that you really didn’t want to get into right now. But now, for some reason, you were probably about to watch a movie and eat some pizza with the person in the office who you knew the least—and that was saying something considering Creed’s purposeful anonymity. For all you knew, he could be a cohort of the Scranton Strangler. 

You sighed—it was time to pick a movie. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“What does your horror movie selection look like?”

Great, the one group of movies you only had like four DVDs for. It wasn’t even your fault either—sure, most horror movies made you want to piss your pants, but they made Ricky want to piss his pants more, preventing you from even thinking about buying a copy of _Alien_ or _The Shining_.

“Um, I have three or four,” you said, pulling two DVD boxes from the compartment under the TV stand. “If you count _Casper_ and _The Haunted Mansion_.”

“Uh…” He bit his lip. “What—what are the other ones?”

You pulled two more DVD boxes from the compartment. “ _Psycho_ and…” You squinted at the box. 

“How about _Psycho_?” Gabe asked. “It’s in my top fifty horror movies.”

“Okay.” You took the DVD out of its box. “Sure.” And placed it in your DVD player.

As you took a seat next to him on the couch, you noticed the smile playing on his lips. It was almost sweet. 

Maybe, Gabe wasn’t that bad.

He leaned over to you as the movie began and whispered, “Did you know that in the book, Mary Crane, or Marion Crane as she is called in the film, was actually decapitated in the shower instead of being stabbed to death.” Great. “Also, I’m pretty sure the oatmeal cookie I gave you was very expired—the ones I had were—and may have given you food poisoning.”

**But he was definitely still weird, that’s for sure.**


End file.
